acting in the face of his companions as the cavalier of a beautiful lady,
and becoming the cicerone of the most brilliant party that had attended
Montem. He presented his friends, too, to Lord. Monmouth, who gave them a
cordial invitation to dine with him at his hotel at Windsor, which they
warmly accepted. Buckhurst delighted the Marquess by his reckless genius.
Even Lucretia deigned to appear amused; especially when, on visiting the
upper school, the name of CARDIFF, the title Lord Monmouth bore in his
youthful days, was pointed out to her by Coningsby, cut with his
grandfather's own knife on the classic panels of that memorable wall in
which scarcely a name that has flourished in our history, since the
commencement of the eighteenth century, may not be observed with curious
admiration.

It was the humour of Lord Monmouth that the boys should be entertained
with the most various and delicious banquet that luxury could devise or
money could command. For some days beforehand orders had been given for
the preparation of this festival. Our friends did full justice to their
Lucullus; Buckhurst especially, who gave his opinion on the most refined
dishes with all the intrepidity of saucy ignorance, and occasionally shook
his head over a glass of Hermitage or Cote Rotie with a dissatisfaction
which a satiated Sybarite could not have exceeded. Considering all things,
Coningsby and his friends exhibited a great deal of self-command; but they
were gay, even to the verge of frolic. But then the occasion justified it,
as much as their youth. All were in high spirits. Madame Colonna declared
that she had met nothing in England equal to Montem; that it was a
Protestant Carnival; and that its only fault was that it did not last
forty days. The Prince himself was all animation, and took wine with every
one of the Etonians several times. All went on flowingly until Mr. Rigby
contradicted Buckhurst on some point of Eton discipline, which Buckhurst
would not stand. He rallied Mr. Rigby roundly, and Coningsby, full of